


Soldier’s Holiday History Lessons

by LittleMissPixieStix



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissPixieStix/pseuds/LittleMissPixieStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly just Soldier's Fourth of July History Lessons, this fic is undergoing a slight expansion. </p><p>Who better to expand his team mates knowledge about history than Soldier?  Just about anyone, actually.  Soldier's history lessons are about as accurate as you expect them to be, but that doesn't mean that they aren't amusing.</p><p>First chapter: Fourth of July<br/>Second chapter: Thanksgiving</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soldier's Fourth of July History Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Work originally posted here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/123807679847/soldiers-fourth-of-july-history-lesson

The day Soldier had been waiting for all year had arrived.  He loved celebrating this day more than all of the other holidays combined, more than he liked celebrating his own birthday, more than anything else there was to celebrate in the history of the world ever.  Because they weren't just celebrating any old occasion today, no.

They were celebrating America's birthday, the day it gained independence from those British bullies, who were dead set on trying to keep the country squished right under their thumb.

What better way to do that then with some pretzels, funnel cakes, borscht and hot dogs to eat?  There was also going to be a parade and a planned baseball game later against the BLU team, where RED was sure to prove victorious.

Nothing more American than that.  

Not a thing.

Add in the special explosives that Demo was making, colorful, home-made, explosives that could almost be called fireworks, and the team was ready to celebrate.  

Assuming the explosives were ever finished, that was.

Currently, Soldier was sitting in Demo's workshop, excitedly waiting for the Scotsman to finish his work on the "fireworks".  Soldier's excited bouncing was starting to get on Demoman's nerves though, especially when the crate squeaked and he was really trying to focus and make sure that the ratios of dangerous explosive powder were just so and not a dangerously just so and -

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He sat up, placing down the tool he was working with, and looked over at Soldier.  Instead of talking, he merely gave his friend a tired look, he was doing this extra work as a favor, giving the team something more to watch than rockets racing into the sky.  Though interesting, that could turn dull after a bit.  Home-made fireworks had a bit more pep to them, and power, as well as more color.

Assuming he could finish them, and keep his sanity intact all the while.  And he was not willing to sacrifice the latter for the former.  Still, he did want to get these done, he was close, too close to just throw them down and quit.  He would be able to finish all of them within the hour if he could get that bloody squeaking  to stop.

"Don't ya' have anywhere else to be, lad?" Demo asked Soldier, hoping to find a reason to send him away for just a few minutes, "Any decorations that need to be set up?  Or any food that ye' want to make sure is done?"

"All the other things are done.  The flags are set up.  The food is cooking, or done.  The makeshift baseball field is finished, and the parade was a success," Soldier reported, "The last thing we need to make this celebration a complete success are your bombs, Tavish."

"Is that so?  Everything else?" Tavish asked, "I see.  I suppose that parade was a success, Jane, even if there were only two of you in it."

"Even if there were only two of us, Pyro did their job well.  They held those sparklers expertly, and followed right behind my trumpeting almost in beat.  They earned wearing that tiara, even if it was by the slimmest voting margin."

"What was the tiara for again?"

"For the title of Teufort's Miss Fourth of July.

"And you lost again?"

"By a vote," Soldier replied, "It was two votes for them, one for me.  If there had been only one of those pink crayon-written votes, it would have been an arm wrestling face-off for the tiara, and I would have won."

Tavish glanced up from his work, and looked over at Jane.

"You're not still bitter about the tiara, are ye', Jane?"

"No," Soldier huffed through gritted teeth, crossing his arms and a leg, "I am not still bitter about the tiara, Tavish.  There's always next year."

"They win every year though-"

"There's always next year," Soldier repeated, his tone implying that this statement was final.

Tavish shook his head, and decided to go along with his friend's hint to move the conversation along.

"So were ya' hoping for any more colors other than red, white, and blue for tha' fireworks, Jane?"

"Certainly not!" Soldier replied, leaning back with surprise at the question, "Those are America's colors, Tavish.  There aren't any more patriotic than those three."

"Too bad, I already put some in.  Engineer told me that Pyro was hoping for some purple and pink, he wanted some yellow an' green, Medic was wanting some orange,  Heavy wanted some white, and I wanted some silver an' gold meself, so expect some colorful variety tonight," Tavish told him, "Now I understand that red, white, an' blue are the colors on the flag, Jane, but what do they stand for?  If they're the nations colors, there's got to be some meaning to them, right?"

"Of course there's a meaning to the colors, and everything on it," Jane replied, "Red stands for blood.  Our enemies blood.  Which would be on the floor and walls and ceiling, if there was a ceiling, after they fight with us.  Blue is the color of a fresh bruise, which we left those British bullies with after any scrap.  White was to symbolize when the blood runs out of a Brit's face, after seeing how strong America was.  And the stars are because after a fight with us, stars are all the enemy is going to see.

"What about the stripes then?"

"Because they symbolize unbreaking resolve, with nothing getting in the stripe's way and breaking it up," Soldier said, "And because they looked better than polka dots...Tavish, I would have thought that you would have known these things by now."

"Must have slipped my mind, Jane," Tavish said, an idea forming when he realized that the squeaking had stopped while Tavish was talking, "In fact, why don't ya' refresh my memory on the history of the whole thing?  You can do that, can't ye?"

"Tavish, if I couldn't tell you about America, then you should assume that I've been replaced by a Spy and should be shot immediately.  In the face." Soldier replied, pushing the front edge of his helmet up with his thumb, "Now, where should I start?  The beginning?"

"The very beginning, Jane.  It'd be a bit silly to start at the end," Tavish said, trying to hide his relived grin.  Though the squeaking was able to get on his nerves, tuning out Jane's talking was much easier, though Tavish would try to listen as long as he could.  There was bound to be something of interest said, even if it was entirely incorrect.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and crack his wrists, Tavish leaned back, went back to work, and get ready for another teaching about the states from his team mate.  

"Well, it all started way back when the pilgrims sailed over here to-"

"You're startin' from the very beginnin', aren't ye'?" Tavish said with a laugh, pausing when he noticed the frown on Jane's face, "Oh.  Sorry for interruptin', please continue."

Giving a nod of approval, happy that the Scotsman had realized his mistake, Soldier did just that.

"The pilgrims were sent here, and they settled the land, finding just the place they needed to establish banks."

"Banks, ye' say?"

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true, Tavish."

"Aye, I get'cha."

"The pilgrims were led here by George Washington, who helped guide them and get the base for a great country get set up."

"I thought George came later."

"That what everyone thinks.  He actually lived many, many years to help America.  He just did it under different names so no would figure it out."

"A pseudonym-user George was, then?" Demo asked, "Was he a vampire or somethin', Jane?  He had to have been, or else he couldn't have lived that long."

"Incorrect!" Soldier announced, "George Washington was not a vampire.  If he was, then Abraham Lincoln would have killed him."

"So Lincoln was a vampire hunter?"

"Yes!  Now you're getting it, Tavish," Soldier said proudly, though Demo wasn't entirely sure what he was getting, "It was George Washington's will that helped him live that long.  He wanted to help America become something great, and by God, he did.  Once America was set, he died."

"Tha's it?" Demo asked, "He looked around, thought the country was doing great, and then just up and died?"

"No.  Of course he had some last words, and wisdom to share, Tavish," Soldier said, "He said, 'Keep this country great, and don't have two parties.  Have a lot of parties instead, one a year, to celebrate what America's become because of him, and we do that on July fourth for good ol' George."

There was silence after that, which prompted Demoman to look up at Soldier, wondering if the man was done talking.  Demo certainly hoped not, he still had more work to do.  Before Tavish could ask, he saw the dreamy, proud look in his eyes.  After a moment, Soldier continued on as if he had never stopped.

"It wasn't easy to get freedom from the British.  It took a lot of fighting, a lot of dying a lot of signing, and and one brave eagle to reach that.  And George Washington, of course, we couldn't have done it without him.  But before any of the fighting could start, we had to do the most unAmerican thing to ever do ever: paperwork."

"No," Tavish said with a fake gasp, focusing closely on his work.

"Yes," Soldier said with a very serious grimace, "Paperwork.  The Founding Fathers had to gather around a table and do some paperwork to try to declare our freedom.  They had to write the Declaration of Independence, then sign it, then send it in triplicate before those Red Coats would even take a sniff at it."

"They sent the Declaration in triplicate?" Demoman asked, that amused smile returning to his face.

"In triplicate.  And they had to send it three times!  Three!" Soldier answered, "Those British bastards kept misplacing it.  And then they didn't even send a receipt, almost like they were trying to pretend that they didn't get it."

"Those crafty devils."

"Luckily, America knew better then to wait for one.  We went ahead and said we were free, and acted like we were free, because we were.   But the British, Tavish, they didn't like that.  Not one bit."  

"I wouldna' doubt that."

"They even tried to bargain with us, sending us tea and tacks, which were placed on the tea, because they had to stack the boxes, but that didn't work on use, no sir.  America knew that freedom was worth more than all the tea in the world,"  That's why we threw it in the harbor, to show the British that not only did we not want their tea, but also that we could make the biggest cup of tea there ever was," Soldier crossed his arms, a proud look on his face, "We showed those pansies."

"What happened to tacks?"

"Those  _ALSO_  went in the river," Soldier replied, still in the same position, and then, again, said, "We showed those pansies."

"Bet those English fellows didna' like their gifts being dumped in tha' water like that."

"That they didn't, Tavish," Soldier replied with a nod, "In fact, they were so angry that they sent their army to come fight our army, but we managed to defend our title of 'largest  cup of tea in the world'."

"...And America?"

"And America!  We managed to fight for and win that too," Soldier said, "And we have to thank some brave men for that."

"You mean George Washington?"

"Him and others," Soldier said, "It's thanks to those brave men that signed the paper that we were able to declare our independence.  They're we were able to send that freedom-fueled middle finger straight to England in the talons of an eagle."

"Oh, that's...Wait," Tavish said, "Are you talking about an actual eagle, Jane?"

"Yes, Tavish, a delivery eagle.  What else would I be talking about?" Jane said, a momentary confused look on his face, "We have to thank Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Sun Tzu, Abraham Lincoln, Clint Eastwood, Benjamin Harrison, Chuck Norris, and, of course, George Washington, for signing the Declaration of Independence and making it more than just a dream.  They made it a reality.  A real one.  But it's not just them who helped make this land free, no sir."

"Oh?" Tavish asked, fighting to keep a straight face, "Who else do we have to thank on this day?"

"Paul Revere is one of those men.  He helped give our men time to prepare to fight, by sounding an alarm," Soldier said, "He rode over that hill yelling 'the British are strumming, the British are drumming', announcing the coming British invasion."

"...Jane, are you talking about the Beatles?"

"The Brits thought they could beat us four men, but we beat the crap out of them so bad that the four of them were sent decades into the future," Soldier said, "Too bad they had to stop in this part of time, those hippies."

"Take it ye' don' like the Beatles, then?"

"Saul, George, Joe, and Bingo have done nothing in the world of music," He replied, "Give me victory songs and an army drum-line.  I'd rather listen to the "Ants Go Marching" for the rest of my life then hear hippie nonsense about never-ending strawberry fields and rich girls up in space.  Now we've got to put up with the crap that would have been played in King George's court."

"The King was named George?  The British king?" Tavish asked, happy to get the conversation away from the Beatles.

"He was named after George Washington," Soldier replied, "Because George Washington came first and was better.  King George changed his name to George to be like our George.  His name was Buford before that."

"Does that mean that the Revolutionary War boils down to jus' a giant George v. George battle royale?"

"It does indeed, Tavish," Soldier said with a grin, “And the best George won.”

“So those are all the people that are responsible for helping the States win the war, eh?” Demoman asked.

"Not  _all_ of them, Tavish,“ Soldier said, “There were many men who fought to protect our country, who were wiling to put their lives on the line to make life better for those who'd come to be after them.  There were the generals, sure, but there were a lot more soldiers, nameless fighters, who never returned to those waiting for them at home."

Demo stayed silent, giving a sincere, solemn nod to Soldier's words.  There was no joking here, the Scotsman understood what his friend was saying.  Freedom was never free.

"But a lot of men returned home after we had won.  They got to see what they had helped win," Soldier looked up wistfully, "I like to think that the others did too."

"I'm sure they did, Jane," Tavish said, "Once those Brits went running, I bet they started their own fourth of July celebration up in those clouds."

"I bet they did,” Soldier replied with a grin, “And that, Tavish, is the history behind why we get to eat tons of good ol' American food, and blow stuff up on July fourth."

"That was quite the lesson, Jane," Tavish said, watching Jane stand up, "Ye' goin' somewhere?"

"I need to go make sure that the Medic has actually made his apple strudel, like the man said he would.  The fourth wouldn't be the fourth without some American appley goodness to eat," Soldier said, "Bring those bombs out once you're done, Tavish."

"Are you jus' tryin' to get out of helpin' me cart all o' these outside?"

"No," Soldier replied in a tone that made Tavish wonder if he was sincere or not, "You're doing excellent work, Tavish, and making your country proud."

"Good ta' hear that, Jane," Demo said, looking up to talk, "I'll bring 'em to tha' spot by the hill once they're done, so they're ready for tonight."

"Thank you, Tavish, and goodbye," Soldier said, a hint of a twinkle in his eye and a crinkle in his smile, "I am leaving your workspace now."  

Before Demo could ask any questions, the Soldier had left to make sure that everything was going to be perfect for tonight.

It was a look that made Tavish wonder Soldier had been pulling his leg throughout the whole history lesson, if he was just in a good mood because of the holiday, or if he was just happy that he got someone to listen while they helped out in the celebration.  

With someone like Jane, it was hard to tell what made them tick, let alone what made them smile like that. Sometimes, it was better not to know.

No matter which it was, Demo wasn't going to ask, the Scotsman knew one thing was pretty clear.  Even if this was an American celebration, it had a way of bringing this mostly foreign team together in surprising ways, from offers to cook, offers to make fireworks, and offers to set things on fire, to participating in a parade and participating in the coming ballgame, everyone was helping out in their own way.  This holiday had a way of bringing the team together, even if over half of them didn't have a reason to celebrate it.

And with all of this team work going on, it was shaping up to be a pretty fantastic Fourth of July.


	2. Soldier's Thanksgiving History Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic originally posted here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/134137844877/soldiers-thanksgiving-day-history-lesson

Thanksgiving was coming up. The mercs didn’t get the day off, they still had to fight their battle, but there was something to look forward to that night.  With Thanksgiving here, that meant only one thing; there was going to be a nice feast to dig into tonight.

But who had to prepare that feast?  The mercs themselves.

For the most part, things were moving along smoothly.  Now that the battle was done, the kitchen was in full swing.  Or as much of a swing as it could be with Soldier roaming around, barking orders, thinking he was helping.  

So it was in about as much swing as a wrecking ball; loud, noisy, and only able to work on one task at a time because there was this loud ball distracting everyone from their tasks.

* * *

 

After Soldier opened the oven for the sixth time, intent of checking on the turkey and making sure it passed inspection, Engineer, a normally patient man, had had enough.  

“Listen, Soldier, son,” Engineer started, getting the other man’s attention, “Think there’s something else you could be doin’ right now?  We all’ve got it in here.”

Though Engineer had just reached his limit, the others were well beyond it.  They needed him out of the kitchen, but they needed him to think he was being sent on a different task so that he would actually go.

“I zhink I heard Demoman wondering what this whole holiday’s about,” Medic said, focusing intently on the food he was prepping.

“Yeah?” Scout said slowly, wondering what Medic was on before he figured out what was going on, “Yeah!  Yeah, he was.  didn’t get the whole idea about the turkey and stuff.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Engineer suggested, putting a gently hand onto Pyro’s head, making sure they didn’t get distracted from their coloring and end up distracting Soldier, “Maybe you should tell him more about this great American holiday?”

“Please,” Heavy added, tired of all the chaos.  This was supposed to be a calm time, and Soldier was far from the calm he needed. 

“Demo doesn’t know the meaning behind Thanksgiving?” Soldier asked, shocked by these claims.  Could they possibly be true?  They couldn’t be-

“No,” The other members of the room said, speaking at once to answer Soldier’s vocal question.

So they were true…

“Then I should go tell him now!”

“Yes, Soldier,  _go_.” Was the thankful chorus of a reply he got.

Marching down the hall, Jane was aghast that Tavish didn’t know about the history of Thanksgiving.  How could he, a good American man, not?  

One thing was for sure though, he was going to straight this out and fix it  _immediately_.

“Tavish!” Jane yelled as he kicked the door to the man’s workshop wide open, causing the man to jump in surprise.  Whatever Tavish was working on slipped from his hands, and he accidentally juggled it a few times as he fought to catch it.  Before it hit the floor, Tavish lunged from his seat and snatched it before the bomb he was working on his the ground.  

Laying on the ground for a moment, Tavish groaned as he pulled himself back up.  Normally, Jane didn’t catch him off guard like that.  Demo had thought that Soldier was going to be occupied in the kitchen for at least another hour and a half, the turkey still had that long to go anyway.

“What do you want, Jane?” Tavish asked, gently putting his work back on his crate of a makeshift desk.

“The others have told me that you do  _not_  know the story behind Thanksgiving!”

“Is that so?” Tavish sighed.  Of course, they would send Jane over here.  Demo had started his part of the dinner the night before so that he could be in and out of the kitchen faster than the others.  His plan had been to go and work in his workshop, taking advantage of the silence the holiday could bring while Jane was distracted.

They had known that.  They had all known that.  They had envied him for planning ahead and finishing before them.

Apparently, though, Jane had been causing enough trouble for them to  _conveniently forget_  that fact.

“Take a seat, Jane,” Tavish said nodding towards the small crates he had in the room, “Go ahead and tell me the story behind Thanksgiving, just take a seat first.  I get the feeling we’re both gonna’ be here a while.”

“Only as long as it takes for you to understand the history behind the holiday, Tavish!” Jane said as he took a seat on a crate, “So what’s the earliest you know about Thanksgiving?”

“There were boats, an’ people were on them.”

Jane shook his head.

“Starting from the very beginning then, eh?  Alright then,” He said, taking the helmet off of his head and placing it down next to him, “You were right when it comes to boats.  In the 1600s, the Pillagerams came over to America in a ship called the Maypole, because they were escaping away from a tax evasion claim that the British people made about them.”

“Tax evasion?  On what?” Tavish asked.

“Tea, of course,” Jane answered, “The British are fanatical about their tea and taxes.  Don’t you remember anything from what I told you on the 4th of July?”

“Aye, I do, I promise,” Tavish said quickly, wanting to avoid a rehashing of the prior lesson, “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Understood, private,” Jane replied, “The Pillagerams landed in Prybar, Massacusetts.  Our Scout is probably a Pillageram, way back in his lineage.  The second most American man here, after your truly.”

“What did they do once they got here?”

“Died.  Sissies,” Jane said, receiving a chocked, surprised laugh from Tavish, “Living in England didn’t prepare them for the ruralness that was America.  The first winter, most of them were eaten by yetis.”

There was a small frown on Tavish’s face, but he held his tongue.  Their boss was known to go off and fight yetis, so he’d let Jane have this one.  Hell, if it’d make things easier, he’d let Jane have them all.

“How’d they last then?”

“The Indians showed them how to fight off the yetis, Tavish.  They used bows, arrows, machine guns, and rope traps.” Jane said, “The Indians also showed them how to make food grow.  Out of the ground.  Magic.”

“Native Americans, not Indians, Jane.  And Vegetables.  They grew vegetables,” Tavish interjected, “Doubt magic helps keep a man full.”

“Merasmus cooked using magic,” Jane countered.

“He make food appear?”

“No.  Well.  Ghosts?”

“Ghosts aren’t edible, so doesn’t count.”

“Anything’s edible if you try hard enough!”

“Alright,” Tavish said with a shrug, wanting to cut this discussion off before Jane took anything as a dare, “Which Native Americans were they?”

“The ones that helped the Pillagerams ?”

“Yeah, they had to belong to a group….A sect… A tribe.  Tribe,” Tavish said as he tightened some wires, finally coming up with the word, “What tribe were they?”

“I’m glad you asked.  They were part of the Whuppayerasses tribe.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive!”

“Okay then, continue.”

“The Pillagerams spent the next year eating yeti meat, growing their precious vegetables, forming wrestling teams to compete with the American natives, and arguing the tax charges against them.” 

“England couldn’t let that go, eh?”

“Never.  The next winter,now that were able to properly defend themselves from the yetis, they had a party with the American Natives.  Squanto attended there.  In fact, there were so many people attending, the American Natives brought some food too.  They celebrated together, thrilled they had survived another year of the yetis-”

Tavish was impressed with this part.  Except for the yetis, Jane actually sounded close to like he knew what he was talking about.

“And then the turkeys attacked.”

So close, yet so far.  

Or rather yeti so far.

“They did?  Was it a bad attack?”

“Awful.  The birds caught them by surprise, so the feathered fiends had the advantage.”

“Then what?”

“It started a long war between the Pillagerams, the American Natives, and the turkeys.  Both the Pillagerams and the American Natives thought that they had lured the other into an attack.  The turkeys plan had gone perfectly.”

“The turkys were eventually defeated, right?”

“Do we look like we are laboring under the rule of those gobblers, Tavish?” Jane asked, “Of course we defeated them.”

“Who did?”

“George Washington!”

“Seems like he was a pretty busy man.”

“He was.  Very busy,” Jane said with a nod, “He defeated both the British and the turkeys in 1777, bringing an end to the one hundred year turkey war.”

“So he’s the reason we have Thanksgiving in November then?”

“Incorrect.  He won those battles in December.  We’re coming to the November part, Tavish.”

“My bad.”

“No worries, Tavish, you’re learning.” Jane reassured, “Now, the holiday stayed in December until Lincoln changed it.  But do you know why he changed it?”

“Afraid I don’t, lad.”

“A woman named Sarah wrote in, asking for Thanksgiving to be moved up a month, and declared a national holiday because she only got days off from work on national holidays.  At this point in time, they only had a few other ones - Christmas, George Washington’s birthday, and the Fourth of July - so Lincoln saw no reason to say no to that simple request.”

“So that’s why we celebrate Thanksgiving on the last Thursday of November then?” Tavish asked, swapping out his pliers for a needle-nosed set.

“Actually,Roosevelt - Franklin, not the great Theodore - decided to change things, moving the holiday up, just to spite his mother-in-law.”

“His mother-in-law?”

“Put the turkey day right on her birthday.”

“Aye, that’ll show her.” Tavish said, “So Thanksgiving is about the turkey war?  Is that what you said?”

“Yes, Tavish, indeed it is.  That’s why we all eat turkey on the holiday.  To help cull the potential threat.”

“And the only thing to do with the Native Americans is that they were massacred by the turkeys?”

“No, they saved Pillagerams as well.  From the yetis.”

“And so why do we have the holiday again?”

“To honor those lost to both the yetis and the turkeys.”

“So we’re honoring the Native Americans too, right?”

“Of course, Tavish.  We, as Americans, owe those warriors our lives at least three times over.  We got our great fighting skills from them.  And eagles.”

It may not be accurate, but, seeing as the right people were being remembered, even in a memory like that, Tavish wouldn’t push it or start a fight with Jane about it.

“So am I all caught up now?” Tavish asked.

“Completely caught up.  Now you know the true history of Thanksgiving,” Jane said, standing up and plopping his helmet back onto his head, “Now let’s go gorge ourselves on some good ol’ turkey and some American potatoes and borscht.”

“Alright, Jane, let’s go see if dinner’s done,” Tavish said, gently placing his work down and standing up to join his friend, “Isn’t anything better than having dinner with some company, is there?”

“Rockets.  Eagles.  Geaorge Washington.  America,” Jane started listing, finding things that he felt were more important.

“ _Almost_  isn’t anything better,” Tavish repeated, escorting his friend out with him, “Let’s get out there and have a happy Thanksgiving, alright?  Be thankful for what we’ve got.  Because what we’ve got is pretty great.”

"Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And so the two of them walked down the hall to go join the others, with Tavish already silently plotting revenge against each and every one of his team mates.  

Next holiday, he was going to be the one sending Soldier to someone, and he would finally be getting some peace and quiet when that normally busy day rolled around.


End file.
